I fell of the stairs for the 2nd time today.
(This is a joke ssshhh)
(I did fall off the stairs though)
A poem every day.
"plan a" was to be cordial:
you said, "coexist."
we toasted with our cappuccinos,
"to coexisting," before replacing our masks.
smile. wave. be polite.
I suppose some dozen missteps by me rendered this plan
"plan b" is much harder.
put your hand on the table.
the knife comes down, quick,
press the hot metal to the wound.
use your friends as a tourniquet,
like the one I've been twisting you into for the last year
and a half.
— The End —